


Pavlov's Dog

by patchworkweddingdress



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchworkweddingdress/pseuds/patchworkweddingdress
Summary: After being partnered to a new student for their class' final project, Waylon Park discovers a completely new side of himself through the eccentric yet charming habits of one Eddie Gluskin.A fleeting touch, a kiss, an expectation. Slowly, Waylon learns, and in return, he teaches Eddie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello and welcome to my first fic! This is my take on a headcanon that got out of hand and me experimenting on ways to write this ship, so updates may not be regular.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

“Okay, so if we split the bill for the water this month, we can afford to go out on the 28th. C’mon man, I really want to see Blake and Lynn again.”

“Damn it Miles,” Waylon grinned as he turned over the page of his journal, his ear pressed on the phone lodged on his shoulder. Behind him, the cafeteria murmurs with life. “You know I can’t refuse those two.”

“Soo… you in?”

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah, but you’re paying full on the water next month.”

“Sure thing, man. See you later.”

The other end of the line dropped, and he turned off his phone. He stared at the recent pages of his planner, brown eyes blinking slowly.

_Announcement of group projects for finals (01.12 th) – Advanced Programming_

He hummed. He hated group projects with a passion. After his suffering of three semesters with Jeremy Blaire as his group leader, he learned to be assertive and draw the line where his work starts and ends. Waylon wasn’t usually like this; on other subjects, he tries to be as helpful as he can since the group always strive to meet the end goal. But when it comes to his majors, all of his survival instincts kicks up two notches to protect himself from potential abuse of his skills.

Well, whichever group he ends up with, he’ll make sure they know his limits intimately well.

He grabbed his bag and stood up from his seat.

\--

“Alright, everyone be quiet.” Professor Archimbaud sighed, tapping the desk in front of him gently. His laptop screen swayed from the force. “I’ve received some questions about the rumors going around that this final project is going to be done with a two-person group.”

The room suddenly dropped silent, and the professor smiled.

“Yes, it will be a two-person group final,” he confirmed.

Everyone let out a collective groan, some of them dropping their heads on their tables. Waylon is one of the latter group.

“Alright, alright. Enough of this drama, let’s pair all of you up.”

 _Shit_ , he thought. He doesn’t have a lot of friends on this class, and he knew about his reputation as a programming slave thanks to Blaire bragging about his apparent ‘whipping up’ of Waylon and having zero participation to the actual programming job.

The professor called off names, and depending on the pairing, followed with either a hiss of joy and a high five, or a louder groan and a facepalm. The first person called was given a list of requirements and schedule for the project.

“Eddie Gluskin, and Waylon Park.”

He perked up, back straightening. Eddie Gluskin? He’s not familiar with the name, which means the guy is either from another class or someone who’s taking the subject as a requisite from another college.

A tall man with a slicked back undercut and wearing a navy polo shirt and faded jeans stood up to take the handout. When he turned around, Waylon awkwardly waved to him.

“I-I’m Waylon Park.”

The man nodded in acknowledgement, giving him the handout before returning to his seat.

…well, at least he hasn’t demanded anything yet. Waylon turned to the paper, copying the schedule on his planner and outlining a possible work schedule for the both of them.

When the class ended, Gluskin was waiting outside the room.

“Ah, hey,” Waylon nervously approached him. “Are you available to talk right now, or do you have classes after this?”

“This is my only class today.” _What a deep voice._

“Okay, do you wanna come with me to the café?”

Gluskin nodded and followed him down the hall. Side by side, Waylon couldn’t help but compare their stature. The man is tall and broad, and he exudes an aura of complete matureness and command. It was a bit of disadvantage that Waylon knew nothing about him. Does he know how to program? Write documentation? If he could make use of him in any fashion, that would be great.

Wait, that sounded rude. _Make use_ of him? What is he, a tool? Waylon grimaced, and he heard Miles berating him in his head.

When they arrived at the café, he ordered a large cappuccino while Gluskin ordered jasmine tea. They sat down on a table beside the large glass wall, where they could see the busy street littered with college students.

“So,” he began. “I have an idea for the final project, but before that I need to know if you can program.”

Gluskin raised an eyebrow at him. “That was fast. Are you sure whatever you got planned is feasible?”

 _What?_ “…I-I think so, at least.” _What the fuck?_ Is this guy doubting him? No one has done that before.

The man just hummed, drumming his fingers on the table’s surface. “I only know web development. Developing desktop apps… I’m not confident enough for those.”

He sighed with relief. “Then you’re already better than my past groupmates.” He pulled out his planner and ripped up a piece of blank paper, jotting down his planned work dates. “Um, what I’m planning isn’t that big, but knowing Prof Martin, we’ll get a good grade with this.”

They discussed the program well until their drinks are finished and the café’s crowd had thinned. Gluskin provided some insights for their project, but Waylon could sense that there are some parts that he just didn’t get.

“If you don’t mind then, I can teach you how to code in Python. It’s a language I used a lot, and the syntax is beginner-friendly, more so than JavaScript.”

Gluskin seemed taken aback by the suggestion.

“I mean, if you only want! It’s just, you already know programming, so uh i-if you don’t want I’m not really sure if you want to handle the docs alone since-”

“It’s fine,” he cut off. “I’m just surprised you want to do that.”

“What? Why not?”

“You’re… the guy everyone claims to be the Prince of Computer Science Department, right?”

_Oh fuck._

Oh fuck, he fucking hate that title.

“Please don’t call me that.” He flatly declared, with an equally flat look shot on Gluskin’s direction.

“Sorry. I’ve been hearing some stuff about you, is all. I was readying myself to find out who you actually are.” His sheepish grin shouldn’t be adorable, but Waylon could feel his face heat up just from seeing it.

“W-What exactly… you know what, I don’t wanna know. Whatever you’ve heard, please forget it. I’m pretty sure you’ll know me well enough after this project.”

Gluskin nodded, and finished his tea. He fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Waylon.

“Please text me when you are available to teach, and if there’s been any announcements regarding the class. I’m from the Business Administration department, and I’m only taking this subject for credits anyway.”

Waylon took the phone carefully, typing out his number and saving it under his full name. He handed it back to Gluskin, who tapped something quickly on the screen before sliding it back to his pant pocket.

Waylon’s own phone vibrated on his bag.

“Thank you for today. I’m looking forward to working with you, Mr. Park.” Gluskin pushed his seat back, indicating his impending leave.

“Oh no, just call me Waylon. Mr. Park is too formal.” _And it brings back some bad memories_ , he grimaced. They both stood up, and Waylon held out his hand with a smile. “Nice meeting you, Gluskin.”

The man took his hand with a firm shake, before raising it to his lips. Waylon’s eyes widened as he felt a barely-there kiss on his knuckles. With a warm smile, Gluskin carefully dropped his hand.

“Just Eddie is fine.”

\--

“Aaaaand the Prince of the Computer Science Department strikes again!”

“Shut the fuck up Miles!” Waylon swiped his arm towards his best friend and roommate, but Miles ducked in time to avoid it.

“Aw man, you really need to tone down your superior Asian beauty. I mean I get it, pretty much every Asian is blessed with good genes and forever young look, but you’re stealing the spotlight way too much.”

“Way to stereotype, asshole.” He picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of luncheon meat. “Eddie’s probably just being nice. If you’ve seen him, he seems like the type to have those kind of habits. I mean, I was surprised he can program, but I guess that’s kinda mean for me to think about.”

Miles mock-gasped and pointed a finger at him. “And now you’re the one stereotyping, asshole!” He grabbed a can of beer and took a swig. “Aside from him being head-over-heels for you, you think he’s a good guy?”

“What? Yeah, of course. And he’s not head-over-heels for me, shut up.”

“Yeah, he totally is. I’m snooping around tomorrow,” Waylon visibly protested. “Buuuut before you complain, I’m doing this for you too, okay? I don’t want another Blaire stepping in our sacred home and stealing our wifi to catfish innocent people at OkCupid.”

He laughed. “Did he really do that?”

“Yeah man. Too bad you’re passed out when I caught him. Oh yeah, before I forget, Blake already messaged me about the 28th. He found this cool bar on the east side of town, got some raving reviews about the place.”

“That was quick.”

“Well, you know him. And he said he’s bringing some friends too, since they’re all coming back from the news trip, so if you don’t want me playing wingman for you all night, you best invite Gluskin as your plus one after I’ve given my stamp of approval.”

Waylon blanched, pausing mid chew. “What the fuck? How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’m just saying, if you want me out of your hair on 28th, bring yourself a date.” Miles stopped, then cackled. “Oh wow, that rhymed!”

“The fuck?! What about you, are you bringing someone?”

He grinned, pumping up his fist. “Hell fucking yes! Who do you think am I, Way? Just because I’m not blessed with Asian genes doesn’t mean I can’t score up a date.”

“Whaat the fuuckk-”

“And Blake told me that if you’re coming alone, he’ll make you the nth wheel of the group, and we’ll all take a picture to commemorate how sad your love life is.”

“I hate you guys.”

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> Hey Eddie! Are you free this Saturday? I discussed our project idea with prof and he gave us the ok

\--

From: Eddie Gluskin

To: You

>> Yes, I’m free after lunch. Do you have a place in mind where we could work?

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> We could try the library? Tho their wifi sucks

\--

From: Eddie Gluskin

To: You

>> If you don’t mind, we could work at my apartment. It’s just a train ride away from the university.

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> Is that ok w/ you??

\--

From: Eddie Gluskin

To: You

>> Of course. I’ll send you my address, then we can either meet at the café after lunch time or you can go straight there at around 1:00 PM.

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> Then let’s just meet at the café! See u on Saturday!

\--

The café was crowded during the lunch rush, so Waylon opted to sit on the outside tables with his frappe. It was sunny but not hot, so he removed his jacket and tied it around his waist as he sat down.

He watched the passing cars while sipping his drink, wondering what Eddie’s place looked like. If it’s like the man himself, he guessed it would be neat and decorated minimally. Perhaps he would have a bookshelf or two, and an old looking couch.

He was in too deep thinking that he jumped at the hand that landed on his shoulder.

“Did I frighten you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Eddie apologized, breathing heavily. Waylon turned to look at him, and he looked like he just ran from wherever he came from to the café. His coat looked rumpled, his hair a bit out of place.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Are you waiting for anything else?”

“No, not really. Just you.”

Eddie straightened up and smiled at him, adjusting the messenger bag on his shoulder. “Then let’s go, before she- never mind.”

Waylon grabbed his drink and laptop bag, and nodded, curiously looking around them to see if someone is chasing after Eddie. They walked to the train station, and quietly boarded a spacious car.

“So… was someone following you?” Waylon tried.

Eddie tensed up. “Hopefully not. I’m not afraid of defending myself but I’d rather not hurt a woman.”

That’s a lot of information. “Do you owe her money or something?”

“No, but she owes me the time I’ve lost I could’ve spent on something productive.”

Waylon grinned. “Harsh, Eddie.”

“No offense, but she’s boring as fuck. If I have to marry someone like her I might as well throw myself on the ocean.”

The sudden turn of his language startled out a surprised laugh from him. “Wow. Where were you earlier? An appointment for arranged marriage?”

Eddie gave a dejected sigh. “Sadly, yes.”

Oh shit.

“T-Those things still happen? In this day and age?”

“Unfortunately. You’d think, with all of the advances of humanity and technology, people would leave behind their bigoted and outdated beliefs.” He pinched the bridged of his nose. “I’m sorry for the outburst, how unbecoming of me.”

“No, you can vent out on me.” Waylon kicked up his legs, giving him an easy smile. “You look like you put up with a lot of shit, so if you don’t mind, we can get drinks later after we’re done with the project.”

The train was quiet, save for the sounds of the machinery beneath them. Eddie stared at him, before his lips quivered into a small smile.

“Thank you, Waylon. You’re very kind to someone you don’t fully know.”

“Oh, we’ll get to know each other later all right.” He grinned, bumping their shoulders.

\--

“What the fu…”

Eddie shrugged off his coat and hanged it on a rack near the door. “Is something wrong?”

Waylon slowly toed off his shoes and pushed them to the side, his eyes and mouth wide. “How the heck can you afford this place?”

The tall man just blinked at him. “Uh… You mean the bills? I have a roommate, and we split payments sometimes.”

Waylon looked around in awe. The apartment is _huge_ , with a loft above the kitchen and dining room. He was right in assuming it would be neat and minimalistic, but not in the old sense. No, definitely not, if the stack of gaming consoles under the gigantic flat screen TV mounted on the wall, the surround-sound speakers resting on their own fancy wood surfaced racks, and the big dark green sectional sofa paired with a low glass coffee table says anything about the place. And that’s just the living room.

“The bathroom is there,” he pointed at the door beside the kitchen. “And if you get hungry, just get anything from the kitchen. Please, make yourself at home. I’ll just change for a minute.”

Eddie climbed up to the loft, and Waylon watch him disappear behind the frosted glass panel acting as the wall of the upper quarters.

Wow.

He shook his head and plopped down the sofa (super comfy, he noted excitedly), taking out his laptop and planner from his bag. He had their day planned out, first: teaching Eddie the stuff he only needs to do what Waylon would assign to him, and second: actually doing some coding up until they finished the first module of their project.

Eddie returned wearing a simple maroon t-shirt and fitted dark jeans, his own laptop tucked under his arm. His outfit showed off his defined muscles, that if Waylon didn’t envy, would’ve made him feel hot inside.

Actually, scrap that. He did feel hot inside.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

\--

Waylon laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking as he swayed. “You- You really did that?”

“Yes, no joke,” Eddie grinned, raising his glass to his lips. “And Chris was swimming in mud afterwards, it was hard to get rid of the dog shit smell. I would’ve torched the damned shirt myself if only it wasn’t his favorite shirt.”

Waylon let out a snort, and was about to refill his own glass when his phone rang loudly from his pocket. He carefully set down the glass and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Waylon, you butter-pube bitch! Where the fuck are you?!”

“Miles?” Because only Miles would call him such a creative nickname. “I’m at my groupmate’s place. I told you about that, remember?”

“Yeah, but you could’ve called me if it’s going to take this long! Are you even going home tonight or not?”

“What-” He looked at the phone, and only realized it’s almost 9:00 PM. “Oh! Oh, sorry. Don’t worry, I’m going home. It’s just a train away from the café so I won’t take long.”

“’Kay, stay safe asshole.”

“Thanks.”

He ended the call and pushed the phone back to his pocket.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Girlfriend?” Eddie asked, refilling both of their glasses.

“Nah, my best friend and roommate. He just worries a lot about me he could qualify as my mom.”

Eddie gave him the glass, and he thanked him. “No girlfriend, then? The Prince of Com Sci Department is single?”

Waylon nearly choked as he downed the drink. “Again, please don’t call me that. And no, don’t have girlfriend. I never had any.”

“You should tell me about that nickname sometime. Sounds like it has a hilarious origin.”

“Let’s just say everyone was being stupid and made me a fucking meme. End of story.” He laughed, standing up and stretching his back. “Wow, that was good. I can’t believe I’m enjoying a group project for once.”

“Same here.” Eddie finished his own drink and placed it on the coffee table. “We didn’t drink much, so I guess you’ll be okay on your way home.”

“Ah, I’m fine. I’m not a lightweight, so the worst thing I’ll deal with is beer breath.” He grinned at Eddie and picked up his bag. They walked to the entrance, and he turned back to his partner. “Thanks for today, and sorry for taking up so much time.”

Eddie waved his apologies away. “No, thank you for teaching me and listening to my ramblings. If it’s not too much trouble, can we work here again next time?”

“Sure, your place is very cool by the way. See you next Saturday?”

Instead of replying, Eddie took his left hand, and much like their first meeting, brushed his lips across his knuckles. Waylon felt his heart beat fast, his lungs suddenly devoid of air, and every fiber of his being reacting to such small kiss.

Eddie gently brought his hand back down, and smiled.

“See you next Saturday, darling.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super late update aaaaaaaaaa!!  
> thank you so much to everyone who commented last chapter! ;D

The intense afternoon heat hit them like an oppressive wave. Waylon took a deep breath, drips of sweat coursing down his face. Beside him, Eddie sighed and tugged his shirt away from his skin, the maroon cloth was darker than its original color. The fan softly hummed in front of them, working double time to keep them cool.

Maybe Waylon was being rude, but he couldn’t help but stare. His glazed eyes followed the way the larger man’s hands slowly pulled the shirt up, his rippling muscles sheen with sweat. _Them abs, though._

Eddie cleared his throat, and he quickly looked away, his face twice as hot now. The man beside him laughed, and he dared to take a peek.

"Darling," Eddie whispered, a soft smile on his face. He scooped Waylon into his arms, his body warming the smaller man. Waylon groaned as he slotted his legs around Eddie's lap, his hands raking the man's immaculate hair. With his thumbs, he gently massaged the scalp and the temple, eliciting a low moan.

He blamed the heat for making him so bold, as he traced Eddie's face, from his brow down to his lips. Eddie doesn't seem to mind as he nipped his thumb, his clear blue eyes intensely watching him. Waylon licked his lips, closing in the gap between them.

Eddie slid his hand behind his head, guiding him as their lips met.

"Mhm…"

"Darling," Eddie whispered like a hushed prayer, pressing their foreheads together.

"Eddie…" he gasped as Eddie gyrated his hips upward, his free hand holding him down. "Eddie… hnghh…"

"Waylon… you little bitch…"

He snapped his eyes open, and was immediately assaulted with a faceful of Miles Upshur.

"Fucking finally! How much did you even drink last night? I thought you guys didn't get shitfaced?"

"N-No…? We didn't even finish the bottle." He groaned and turned to his side, his head suddenly in pain. The remnants of the dream seem to cling into reality; specifically, his pants. "Ugh, what the fuck."

"Well sorry to crash your misery party but Glick's been calling us for an hour. Some apartment related meeting I think, everyone's being asked downstairs."

"Shit, we're paid up until next month right?"

"Yeah, I don't think it's about that. Come on, I'll buy you coffee afterwards."

Waylon sighed, pushing his body up with difficulty. The sudden news killed his growing boner, thank fuck.

Miles handed him his hoodie, and together they descended to Pauline Glick's apartment.

\--

 "Alright, you nerds," Pauline began, crossing her arms as she looked at all the tenants in her building sitting quietly on her living room. She sat on a folding chair in front of them, beside her fiancee, Helen Granat, who was smiling at everyone. "Let's get down to business. Starting next week, the water supply at this building will be erratic. It will cut off starting at 6pm and will start again at 5am."

There was a cacophony of confused noises. She cleared her throat to get back the attention.

"Luckily, none of this is your fault. Some fucker last night tried to rob someone on the second floor by getting around the piping system but..." She clicked her tongue, trying to think of a gentler way to word how they were dragged from their sleep by a strong shower coming from the adjacent wall, and how she had to drop kick the motherfucker who fell on her petunias.

"There was an accident with the pipes," Helen picked up with a knowing smile. "Thankfully no one got hurt except him, and as far as I know nothing was taken."

Upshur raised his hand from the couch. "Are we gonna pool money for the repairs?"

"No, you don't need to do that. We made sure that bastard know how much the cost of repairs are. The only problem with this is that it's going to take at least a month to repair because the damage was pretty big. Those on the upper floors, you probably still have water, but we're turning that off today. So if you don't want to run out go save some or at least do all of your laundry before 6pm."

Everyone nodded, and tenants sharing an apartment turned to each other to briefly discuss the situation. Looks like there's not much problem here.

Pauline stood up, the click of her heels commanding as she nodded. "Dismissed."

\--

Miles and Waylon has been friends since high school, that they knew enough to sense if something’s up with the other. In this case, Miles could smell something brewing under Waylon’s too contemplative way of staring at the glazed donut laid on a paper napkin beside his still steaming coffee (with enough shots of straight espresso to be illegal).

Normally, Miles would make fun of his absentmindedness (which, he learned, was just Waylon overthinking shit that shouldn’t be overthought), but it looks like there’s something else that he could make fun of. But first order of business first.

He leaned forward on his elbows, peering under Waylon’s face.

“Way.”

Waylon made an inquisitive sound as acknowledgement.

“Did you and Gluskin fucked last night?”

Waylon’s eyes widened, and he glared at Miles with great intensity. Oh, but his cheeks were bright red with great intensity too. Miles snickered, sipping his own coffee. Too easy, Waylon.

“What the fuck? Where did you get that idea?”

He shrugged, practiced nonchalance working like a charm. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen a lot of people the morning after a great fuck. And you looked like you got laid, so- wait.” His eyes narrowed at the programmer, whose own eyes were narrowing in suspicion. Miles gathered all of his willpower not to straight out lose it right there. “Is ‘group project’ a euphemism for fucking now?”

Waylon immediately dropped the suspicion, his face morphing into pure exhaustion and growled. “I’ll murder you in your sleep, I swear to god.”

He snorted, covering his mouth. “But really, I just wanna know if you’re okay. Cause when I was about to wake you earlier you were moaning Gluskin's name.”

His best friend gaped at him, eyes wide as saucers. "... You're fucking with me." He whispered, shaking his head.

"As much as I love teasing you, that one I can't make up. Want proof?" He pulled out his phone, thumbing through the gallery. He tapped he most recent video and slid the phone across the table.

Waylon hesitantly picked it up, playing the video. Miles' voice can be heard from the speakers, trying to wake him up.

_"Waylon, hey, wake up!"_

_"Ngnnh..."_

_"Way! Glick's gonna kick our ass if we're late!"_

_"E...Eddie..."_

_It was silent for a few seconds, before Miles burst into giggles, the camera going unsteady for a second. "W-What was that?"_

_"Eddie... Mhm..."_

_The camera suddenly turned to Miles who was laughing like an ass, face red. Then the focus returned to his sleeping form, with Mile's hand shaking him hard. "Waylon, you little bitch! Wake up!"_

"Shit," Waylon muttered, pushing the phone away from him. "Shit, shit, shit."

"So, are you ready to confess your crimes, mister?" He grinned, lacing his fingers in front of him.

"I didn't! I swear on every holy deity that I didn't!" He dropped his face on his palms. "God, how the fuck could I be so affected with a kiss? This is so stupid."

"Wait, what? You guys kissed?! Holy shit Way, isn't it like your second time hanging out with him?"

“Not like that!” He groaned, and for a second Miles felt a little bit of pity for him. “He just did what he did last time!”

“Oh, you mean the kiss on the back of your hand?”

Waylon nodded, slowly lifting his head up. His face is still blazing with embarrassment but he looks more contemplative now. “I don’t know why he does it. But… I don’t hate it.”

Miles raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Does that mean you want more?”

“I-I dunno.”

“How about… a cheek kiss? Would you like that?”

Waylon just stared down at his coffee, before whispering. “Maybe.”

“A hug?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess.”

Miles grinned. “French kiss?”

Waylon just glared at him.

“You know, I thought our water situation is pretty lame,” he leaned back, looking out of the nearby window. “But maaaybe… you should stay over at Gluskin’s for the weekend.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard from you-”

“But picture this, Way,” he dramatically raised both of his hands and squished Waylon’s cheeks. “It’s night, just after dinner. If we’re following a pattern here, there’s probably a small amount of booze involved. You take a shower on Gluskin’s bathroom, and while you’re rinsing soap off your skin, you can’t help but feel nervous.”

“Jats sshum dutty fenffick shenario-”

“Just shut up for a moment, Your Highness.” He narrowed his eyes, still not letting go of the other man. “Gluskin has given you some of his old clothes to use for the night. You thought it wasn’t necessary because you packed your own shit. But then, as you towel your hair, you realize you can still smell his scent on that baggy shirt he lent you-”

“SSShtuhp!” Waylon pried his hands off, but not without difficulty. Miles thought it was impossible for his face to get even redder, but it looks like the bullshit he was spouting got into his best friend. “Seriously, stop that crap!”

“Oh, Way Way. You’re so cute when you have a crush. Remember when you used to like Lisa back in high school? That was hilarious.”

“Fuck you, if you bring this up again I’ll change the WiFi password and delete all of your porn!”

“Wait, hold on just a minute-! Way!”

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> Eddie, prof said we need to prepare a progress report presentation next meeting, let’s go to the library after class

\--

From: Eddie Gluskin

To: You

>> Ok, see you then.

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> Btw we still gonna work on ur place this Sat?

\--

From: Eddie Gluskin

To: You

>> Yes, of course. Do you want to work somewhere else?

\--

From: You

To: Eddie Gluskin

>> No, but if it’s ok can I stay over? We’re having plumbing problems @ our place

\--

From: Eddie Gluskin

To: You

>> That’s fine, darling. Just text me if you need something specific.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this lmao it wasn't even supposed to be this long but it got out of hand xDD

Waylon pressed the button on the vending machine with a sigh, and the clatter of the energy drink dropping down was music to his ears. He quickly grabbed the can from the outlet and resumed his sprint to the classroom.

He didn't mean to be late, but he and Miles went out last night to eat mostly to avoid stacking up dishes that they won't be able to wash until the next morning. While on the way to the nearest KFC, they ran into Lisa and her friends, who were on the way to the bar. One thing led to another, and they ended up drinking more than they should on a school night.

He remembered arguing with Lisa about the usability of Uber when they have functional public transportation system while downing his fourth vodka cranberry. In the end, Lisa had to book a car for the both of them, laughing at Waylon's drunk mini tantrum as he was supported on the back seat of the vehicle.

Anyway.

Back to reality, he entered the classroom as the bell rang, and he thankfully slid on an empty seat. He opened the can and downed the entire content in one go, the drink spilling past his lips.

"Someone had a fun night."

He ignored the voice as he wiped his mouth, crushing the can and shoving it on his bag's pocket.

"Partied hard, Park?"

"Fuck off Blaire."

The douche just smirked as he turned to the programmer, leaning his arm on the back of his chair. "How's project going on? Missed me yet?"

"As if. I'm so glad Prof. Martin made the groups random. I'd gladly take anyone that isn't you."

Jeremy frowned, and Waylon was about to drop another sick line when Eddie slid beside him.

"Oh, hey Eddie."

"Hello," he nodded, placing his bag beside his feet. "That was close."

"Yeah," he grinned, mood already improving. "You ready for the report?"

Eddie just smiled, his eyes mischievous. "I'm born ready, Darling."

"Whoa, someone's getting close!" Jeremy grinned, leaning towards them. Waylon glared at him, his face sour as if he just smelled something foul. "You only met Waylon last week, right? And you're already on pet name basis?"

Eddie turned to him, an eyebrow raised. "What does it matter to you?"

"Just asking, dude. You see, Waylon here," he made a flippant gesture towards said man. "He's my obedient little bitch-"

"Hey!"

"-for years now. I'm just worried that he's not functioning well without my guidance."

Oh God, Waylon facepalmed. Is this what girls feel when they get talked over by fuckboys? God, he promised himself to always listen to Lisa and Lynn because apparently he didn't know any better. Or maybe Blaire is just a staggering example of who to not approach, and he just got unlucky big time.

Eddie seemed unfazed by the display. "I don't really care about that. Waylon is a brilliant partner, and I couldn't ask for a better groupmate. Based on our first meeting, I can already tell he's capable of leadership. Can't say the same about you."

Ohhhh my God.

"You son of a-"

"Maybe it's you that can't function without him." The tall man leaned forward and smirked, and if it wasn't the hottest thing Waylon had seen then fuck everything because hot damn. "Are you jealous?"

"Ehem."

The three of them straightened up, and to Waylon's utmost embarrassment, the whole class was looking at them. Some we're grinning, others shocked that someone had the balls to talk down Jeremy Blaire.

Prof. Archimbaud looked bemused, but his eyes were twinkling.

"Shall we start the class?"

_Shit dawg._

\--

The moment the next bell rang, Waylon dropped his face on the desk.

"Are you alright?" Eddie's deep voice soothed him, like a calming balm on a sprained muscle.

"Yeah, just hungry." He turned his head to the side and smiled at his partner's worried face. "Don't worry, I can just drop by the cafeteria and eat on the way to the library."

"Do you have classes after this?"

"Yeah, but that's still around four in the afternoon. Plenty of time to do stuff."

Eddie grabbed his bag and returned his notebook inside. "Well, we could eat at our leisure." His face suddenly lightened up. "Oh, I know. There's this restaurant my friend runs, their food is amazing. Do you want to go?"

 _Eddie's friend. I can find out some stuff about him!_ He pushed himself up and shoves his shit back on his bag, smiling. "Let's go."

Said restaurant was a bit of a walk, but they eventually stopped in front of what Waylon couldn't figure out if it's a hotel or a commercial building. Eddie strode inside smoothly, like he belonged there. The programmer stayed close to his side, feeling severely underdressed in his shirt, cardigan, and jeans.

They rode the elevator to the top floor, which was a really swift ride. He had to hold onto their railings because the elevator wobbled a lot on their way up.

"Wow, what the heck is this place?"

"It's… really bizarre, isn't it?" Eddie chuckled, leading him to a double door where a female attendant was stationed behind a marble counter. "I'll explain later."

"Hello Mr. Gluskin," the woman smiled. "Table for two?"

"Yes. Frank is here, right?"

"He is, though it's pretty busy inside right now." She handed them two menus and walked around to open the doors.

Waylon's breath was stolen away as he took in the gigantic room with a dome glass ceiling, intricate golden arches adorning the pillars supporting the ceiling. Round tables covered with white cloth, decorated with blue and silver vases filled with various blooming flowers. Waiters dressed in deep red shirts walk around with grace, while quiet chatter filled the room. On a corner of the room, several tables were moved together.

"Looks like a party," Eddie muttered, taking Waylon's arm and gently pulling him to a vacant table. "Here, Darling."

"Oh, um, yeah…" He distractedly sat down on the chair, surprised to feel the soft cushion on his butt. That's rare these days. Most restaurants don't spend too much on furniture. "Your friend… owns this?"

"Well, technically we - Frank and I do own this place. He manages anything related to food, and I deal with the real estate and design. God knows what this place will look like if I left that to him."

"What?! You... Holy shit, how rich are you?!"

Eddie just smiled and opened the menu.

Waylon sheepishly turned to his own menu. The food was surprisingly familiar, but some of them are obviously only encountered in high class five star restaurants. More worrying though, is the lack of price list accompanying each dish.

"Eddie," he hissed. "Which one is the cheapest here?"

"What? Don't think about the price, Waylon. Owners don't pay."

_Well then._

_Hmm._

_These are really pretentious names for food._

After a few minutes, he peeked over the menu to see Eddie leaning on his hand and smiling fondly at him. He felt his face heat up, and the urge to order the ones he couldn't pronounce just to impress the other man suddenly reared its head.

"W-What?" He whispered, smiling himself.

"Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"Just enjoying the view."

_Fuck._

Smoother than a baby's butt.

"Are you ready to order, Darling?"

_Call me Darling again, please._

"Y-Yeah, I guess."

Eddie nodded and waved a waiter over.

"By the way, are we going to have an entire set of spoons and forks? Because I think I learned that on a Humanities class once but I've already forgotten about it and I don't wanna look like a noob here."

"You don't have to worry about that, I'll tell them to just bring the commoner's cutlery for you."

_Did this fucker just called me a commoner._

Waylon knew, by the aborted laugh that escaped Eddie's lips, that it was all in good humor. But looking at their difference, sometimes he can't help but feel that he really is a nobody.

He doesn't have to know Eddie's background to come to that conclusion. The way this man moves and talks screams of a rich bastard (no offense). And Waylon felt a little bit off, like he doesn't deserve to hang out with him and banter like friends. Like he's unreachable.

The waiter arrived just in time to cut off his self deprecating musings.

\--

Never, in the short time that they knew each other, had Waylon wanted to embarrass Eddie.

But holy fucking shit on a stick did that… that… _what's this dish called again?_

Maybe he's just exaggerating, but the taste was something so out of this world that Waylon couldn't help but cry as he shoved another slice of beef in his mouth. Why the fuck does it taste so good?

Eddie seemed genuinely disturbed and confused with his tears, and it just made him cry harder. "Darling?"

"Nnnyeah?"

"W-What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," he sniffed, pausing to wipe his nose with the napkin. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Eddie. But the food is so fucking delicious." He stabbed another cut with his fork and unceremoniously ate it.

Eddie looked even more concerned.

"S-See this mashed potato over here?" He lifted the small bowl filled with said dish, covered with a generous serving of gravy. "This mashed potato is the shit! How? Why?" He picked up a small spoon and scooped some of it on his mouth, moaning as it melted in his tongue, the smooth, buttery taste unparalleled. "Please, if I die tomorrow, tell the chef that I died a happy man."

"That's a compliment I've never heard before!"

They both turned to the man wearing a white uniform dotted with orange and green splatters who dragged a nearby chair to their table. He got an enormous beard, his graying hair pulled back in a small ponytail. The man faintly smelled like fried bacon.

"You… the chef?"

The man grinned. "Name's Frank Manera. You win the best compliment of the month, so desserts on the house. Whaddya like?"

Waylon sniffed and smiled. "Give me your best shot."

Frank grinned, crossing his arms. "Gladly."

Eddie rolled his eyes, smiling. "How have you been, Frank?"

"Better, now that you've finally brought a date to my special place! What's your name, lucky guy?"

Waylon blushed, the shame from pointlessly crying over food forgotten. "Waylon Park. I'm Eddie's partner for the Advanced Programming class."

The chef turned to Eddie. "Man, you still taking classes? I know you're holding off the graduation but seriously dude." Frank clicked his tongue, eyeing the bigger man in distate.

"Get off my case, Frank. Besides, I heard they're giving Clara the go to move here once I enter my last semester and I swear if that ever happens I'll hire Chris to make sure she doesn't get close to any of my shit."

Waylon's eyes widened, and Frank laughed.

"Oh man, just tell your parents that you're gay! It's no big deal."

"You of all people should know that's not true," but Eddie just laughed with him. Waylon wasn't sure what's not true: Eddie being gay or the whole ordeal is a big deal.

"Oh, your… um, fiancee?" He asked.

Frank just laughed harder while Eddie suddenly looked constipated. "I'm not engaged to anyone, Darling. Especially not to that brat of a woman."

"Oh, sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, it's fine."

Frank's laughter tapered off with a snort, and he turned to look at Waylon. "Hey, you're pretty cool for getting my workaholic friend to come here. As thanks for that, I'll tell you a secret." He winked, before standing up and returning to the kitchen.

Waylon blinked. He looked at Eddie, who was similarly confused by the sudden departure.

"Well… better make room for dessert, I guess."

\--

The secret came in later as two waiters brought in and set up a chocolate fountain on their table, before returning with several small trays of various small sweets. One of them was loaded with what looked like marshmallows rolled in crushed nuts, but when he picked them up, he could tell that something is mixed in it.

He popped one in his mouth, and a mild chocolate flavor flooded his taste buds.

The final dessert is placed in thick bowl that resembles a wide wine glass, filled with various colorful ingredients and topped with shaved ice, milk, and chocolate syrup. Eddie was given the same dessert, but his was topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sprinkles.

As the bowl was placed in front of him, a note was taped on the bottom of the plate holding the bowl. He ignored it for a while, picking up a macaroon and sampling it. _Does macaroon go with chocolate sauce?_

Only then he noticed that Eddie was staring at the chocolate fountain so hard, as if it held the answers to the questions of the universe.

Then he picked up a cookie, and dipped it on the pool of chocolate at the base of the fountain, his eyes never leaving it.

Waylon held his breath as Eddie shoved the whole cookie in his mouth, his cheeks moving mechanically, before he swallowed. And picked up a thick piece of wafer, repeating the almost hypnotic routine.

He leaned back and unfolded the note towards him.

_Eddie got a big sweet tooth ;)_

Oh.

Well.

He looked back to his partner, and saw the tray beside him halfway cleaned. Eddie's face is a picture of pure bliss and contentment as he stuffed himself with sugar.

Waylon smiled. How adorable.

He picked up a marshmallow, swiped it on the falling chocolate sauce, and held it out for the other man.

Eddie broke out of his trance, surprised at the gesture. Waylon smirked, opening his lips as a command.

The way Eddie's beautiful blue eyes widened and his cheeks reddened sent an inappropriate rush of excitement through his veins, moreso as Eddie leaned and took the sweet with his lips. He chewed slowly, never breaking eye contact.

He blamed the sugar, as he lightly traced the other man's lips with his thumb.

Eddie stared at him for what he felt like an eternity, before sliding his hand underneath his and turning it over. He closed his eyes as he pressed his lips against his knuckles, a repetition of their past encounters. Like a habit he couldn't break.

And Waylon is weak to the way he smiled with his eyes; pure, unadulterated adoration.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa finally i can update!! my thesis is almost over and i can finally dive back into my fandom life aaaaaaaa ;D

After their meal, Frank sent them away with a small paper bag of take out. Eddie hissed at him, reminding the chef about the company policy of no take outs allowed. Frank just laughed and told him to take out the stick on his ass.

Waylon realized that they took too much time with that impromptu lunch (date? Oh God was it a date?) that their time for library work was shortened. But he couldn't find any reason to excuse their lateness; he genuinely enjoyed the other man's company despite the way his heart stutters like a dying motor desperately trying to restart every time Eddie looks at him as if he's the stars in the sky and all that romantic shit.

They worked side by side quietly, tapping on their laptops and discussing their progress in hushed tones. By the time Waylon's next class was about to start, they covered a good portion of their work.

Eddie escorted him to the campus' main building, waving goodbye with a warm smile. When the programmer reached the lecture room, he felt a disturbing feeling of something out of place.

(It's definitely not because Eddie did not kiss his hand as they parted ways.)

(Nope.)

\--

"Are you ready?"

Miles grinned, waving his spoon in the air. "Gimme."

Waylon smirked and peeled off the top of the disposable container, and watched as his roommate's eyes widened. A thick layer of cheese and button mushrooms covered large cuts of beef, creamy sauce pooling on the bottom.

"What the fuck? Weren't you just at school earlier?" He dug his spoon into the dish and brought it up on his mouth, moaning and closing his eyes as he chewed.

"How is it?"

"Heavenly," he drawled out the last syllable, already scooping out more. "Where did you buy this? This shit's the real deal. I can eat this everyday, probably."

"Now that I remember, I didn't know the name of that place," he sheepishly smiled. "But Eddie brought me there; he said he's a co-owner of the restaurant. Maybe next time I'll bring you with me, though to be honest we probably can't afford it."

"What? Why not? You guys just ate and ran? That doesn't sound like something Gluskin would do."

"Nah, apparently owners don't pay for their food."

Miles' eyes narrowed, but a smirk was on his lips. "Right, right. Gotta stay classy. Don't wanna embarrass himself in front of his date."

Waylon frowned. "Shut up, it's not a date."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Their conversation drifted into different direction, from Miles' current workload to their current water situation.

"So, have you thought about having a sleepover at Gluskin's place?"

"Yeah, I guess I'll do it. I really hate that I can't take a shower at night."

Miles sighed. "Same. I guess I'll go party next Saturday and crash on whoever snags me." He pointed the spoon at Waylon. "You best be careful, alright? No sex until third date. Blowjobs count as sex."

The programmer laughed. "Your imagination is way beyond me, Miles. You wish we're dating."

"Do I?" He smirked.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Miles just grinned and continued inhaling the dish until the container was empty, and Waylon had to snatch it away after his roommate's attempt to lick the remaining sauce pooling in the bottom.

\--

The next Saturday arrived with heavy rain, and Waylon worriedly ran towards the train station. He closed the soaking umbrella at the entrance of the station, shaking away the droplets on the street.

Eddie wasn't with him this time, though that's because Waylon felt bad for even thinking of making him leave his home at this weather. It's not like he's gonna get lost anyway, and the anticipation for warmth and Eddie's presence was enough to hurry him.

As he was stepping out of his destination, a sudden gust of wind and rain violently passed his direction. He yelped as his umbrella folded up, the metal spine support creaking against the force. From his peripheral, he saw other umbrellas flying away from their owners.

"Fuck," he muttered as he gripped the handle and turned it around, shielding himself from the wind. He frowned at the broken joints and the torn stitching. _Well shit._

The wind calmed, but the rain still heavily poured down. He cursed and ran towards a bakeshop's shelter roofing, scooting against a bunch of other soaked people complaining about the weather.

"Waylon?”

He turned to his left, and _would you look at that_ , Eddie was standing with a big black umbrella, a paper bag tucked between his chest and arm. His face was contorted in worry, and for some reason that made Waylon grin.

"Hey Eddie. Nice weather we're having today, huh?" He shook his broken umbrella away.

Eddie sighed, and carefully moved the umbrella closer to him. "Come here, we're close at home anyway."

"Yay," he laughed nervously as he slid beside the tall man, their shoulder pressed closed. "Thanks, I was gonna wait out the rain but it looks like it won't be ending soon."

"Yeah, the weather report this morning said it would be raining all day. Is your bag okay? Your laptop's in there, right?"

"Yeah, it's fine, it's waterproof. My umbrella's out of commission now, though. Why were you outside?"

"I realized I'm out of some ingredients, and the grocery is nearby so…"

"What are you making?"

"Just some soup. It's not gonna be as good as Frank's cooking, but my mother taught me the recipe."

They arrived at the apartment, and Eddie unlocked the door while he squeezed out the water soaking his shirt.

"Hey Eddie, can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course, Darling." He pushed the door open and looked back at him. "There's spare towels in the cupboard, and feel free to use the shampoo and soap on the drawer below the sink."

"Thanks!"

He carefully dropped his backpack on the coffee table and walked towards the bathroom. It was spacious, with a partition for a shower and a bathtub. He stripped down all of his clothes and loaded them on the washing machine, jumping straight to the shower as the washer vibrated with life.

The hot water was a blessing to his chilled skin, the steam rising up around him making him sigh. This is what he has to give up for around a month in his apartment. Even though he knew that there were still designated times for the water to course throughout the complex, it's usually during his school hours which is just fucking convenient.

Waylon just sat there, content as a house cat, when there's a knock on the door.

"Darling?"

He turned off the shower. "Yeah, Eddie?"

"I have clothes you can borrow, can I come in?"

Oh. Oh shit, now that he remembered... He fucking left his bag in the living room. Where his overnight clothes are. _Good job, Waylon._

He sat up straight, nervously tapping his knees. "Yeah, it's fine."

The door opened with a quiet creak, and from the translucent shower curtain he could see Eddie's massive form enter the bathroom. He stopped near the sink and opened the door again.

"I'm leaving it here near the sink, if you need anything else just tell me alright?"

Waylon chuckled. "Thanks, you're the best host, Eddie."

Eddie snorted before closing the door, and Waylon turned the shower open once again, carding his fingers across his messy hair.

About twelve minutes later, Waylon finally convinced himself that he's abusing Eddie's hospitality by racking up his water bill so he picked up his ass and dried himself. The clothes were already on dry spin mode, and by this evening he could probably have them back.

Speaking of clothes, he turned to the stack of neatly folded clothes Eddie loaned him. He grabbed the shirt and put it in front of his torso while facing the mirror. The shirt was on the longer side, a size larger than him, but if this is indeed Eddie's shirt it's probably a really old one. He couldn't imagine the larger man fitting into it.

He slowly put it on, tugging on the wide neck line. He stared back at the mirror image of himself, strangely hypnotized by the sentiment of him wearing Eddie's shirt. It wasn't the first time he borrowed clothes, and most likely won't be the last. So why was he so affected by this?

_It's just Eddie's…_

And because his brain has gone to Sleep Mode, he lifted the front of the shirt up to his nose and sniffed the garment, his heart beating fast.

…it smelled like Naphthalene balls.

 _Bitch what were you expecting_ , he could hear Miles' voice sassing him in some dingy corner of his mind. He frowned and dropped the shirt, sighing.

He was surprised to see a pack of disposable underwear on the same cabinet as the towels, and he contemplated whether Eddie and his roommate get enough visitors staying over that they had to provide them. Also who the fuck buys disposable underwear?

(He vaguely remembers his first trip to Japan, and shook his head. Yep, disposable underwear is pretty necessary.)

The shorts surprisingly fit him even though it goes past his knees, and he gave himself another once over in front of the mirror. He looked decent enough and he's comfortable, which is what matters to him more.

He slapped himself on both cheeks, blinking rapidly. It's just a study session, just like before. No need to be nervous.

Yeah, just a study session.

He can worry about later after their responsibilities are done, when the liquors are out and his inhibitions low, and the idea of Eddie liking him wearing his old clothes isn't totally absurd after five shots of whatever they're having.

\--

It started out as an innocent game to get to know each other, but maybe they're just both too drunk to care. At least, Waylon doesn't care much. He likes the attention Eddie gives him, and Miles can go suck an egg with his assuming ass.

The bottle of vodka sits between them, surrounded by two shot glasses. They were sitting cross legged on the floor in front of each other, their faces just a tad red. Eddie was sweating a bit on his forehead, and Waylon kinda wanted to sit on his lap and wipe it away with his fingers. Kinda.

"Uhh, worst childhood memory?" Waylon asked.

"Ugh," Eddie closed his eyes as the programmer poured him a shot. "My first arranged marriage meeting." He downed the shot and shook his head as the alcohol burned in his throat.

"Whoa, it happened when you were still in elementary or high school?"

"High school. And it was bad because I found out that they made the girl move into my school. She was following me around and generally being annoying, so I told her that I don't want to marry such classless woman."

"Harsh. You're pretty harsh when it comes to women."

Eddie shook his head. "It's only the ones unfortunate enough to be selected by my father as my potential partner. Anyways, that girl cried a lot and told me I would be a bad father to our future children." Both of them cringed at that. "Turns out her parents were pieces of shit that brainwashed her into believing that she was only good as bargaining material. You know those god awful dramas about families marrying for business or increased influence? That's pretty much it."

Waylon poured himself a shot, frowning. "What happened to the girl?"

"I helped her out of her situation, but not before reiterating the fact that I will not be marrying her. I asked a distant aunt who was powerful enough to pay for top notch lawyers to get the girl separated from her parents and adopted into a decent family."

"And you somehow got away with it?"

Eddie grinned, his cheeks still flushed. "Well, I had to stay away from home for around six months while my dad threw a fit. Stayed with various cousins and friends."

Waylon laughed. "You sound like someone out of a wild adventure manga. Anyway, your turn to ask!"

"Okay, um… any accomplishments from high school?"

"Oh God," he scratched his cheek, still laughing. "Well, I... Have many accomplishments in high school. I live up to the talented Asian kid trope, which is only partially my fault." He downed the shot with ease.

"What do you mean?"

"I told you about Miles, right? My best friend and roommate. He's my very first friend when I transferred here in Colorado from Seoul. I wasn't very sociable back then, still adjusting to a new country and environment. He's fucking loud, and dragged me to various events and shit. Said he was on the Campus Journalism club and needed to attend for stories and articles. One day, while we were watching a tennis match, I think I said something along like those players are amazing, and next thing I knew he signed me up for tennis tryouts."

Eddie's eyebrows scrunched up, his lips crooked into an uncertain smile. "And you're fine with that?"

"Well, I yelled at him for signing me up without permission, but when I got home and told my mom about it, she dragged me to the sporting goods store and bought me a racket and ball to practice with." He smiled at the fond memory, still remembering the glint in his mother's eyes as she watched him practice in their yard with the heavy racket and the countless hours of watching swinging techniques. "I competed in Nationals, then I quit on my second year because I had to focus on my studies. Which is, incidentally, the year Miles somehow pawned me off to the gymnastics club."

"What?"

"I know," Waylon giggled. "He said something about a lost bet and that the punishment was him bringing in a new member. Apparently the club was dying and members were all graduating next year. I don't know why they didn't just let the club die if no one was joining. Rest assured that I had to beat up Miles for such reckless bullshit, but I did join the club because they bribed me with private membership to the gym I usually go to until the end of the school year. Won a gold and two silvers while I was there."

"What the fuck," Eddie muttered under his breath, now pouring more alcohol on his glass.

"Oh, but I quit after that cause the benefits are gone." Waylon cackled, his shoulders shaking. "After that, I spent my last years in robotics club, where I fell in love with programming. Fortunately, Miles was very supportive and helped me get into trainings and free seminars, as long as he gets to tag along for the school paper. I won first place on one robotics contest, and placed second or third in some hackathons. They really helped a lot in getting me scholarships for college."

The taller man sighed, his eyes shining with wonder. "You're amazing. But I feel like your skill isn't connected to your Prince title."

"Oh, that's… get me drunk enough and I might spill the beans." He grinned.

Eddie smirked, and raised his shot glass to his lips. "Your turn to ask, darling."

"Oh, then… hm, any hobby you're proud of?"

"Easy. I'm really into sewing."

Waylon blinked. "Sewing?"

"Yes."

He blinked again. "Like… with a thread and needle?"

Eddie grinned at him. "Very accurate description, darling."

Waylon blushed, raising an eyebrow. "You don't look like someone who would sew. I mean, not to stereotype, but I just can't imagine you doing it."

"I know. But only few people actually know about it."

Waylon smiled and leaned forward. "So am I special enough to know this secret?"

"Pretty much. You're the most interesting person I've met in the university since I started attending there, so yes, you're special to me."

The programmer felt heat creep up his neck, and he tugged at his- _Eddie's_ \- shirt. "That's probably an exaggeration. I bet there's other more interesting than me. Like, say, a really good professor or something."

"I'm telling the truth. Besides, business professors are too hung up on the theoretical side of managing for my tastes. In reality, there's too many variables that you just can't control, and a 300-page business plan isn't going to cut it."

"So you resort to sewing away your distaste?"

Eddie winked at him, and he swear he could hear his organs screaming because what the fuck that's hot. "Enough to run my own line of formal wear."

"What?? So you're one of those people who attend the haughty court or something?"

The larger man laughed loudly. "You mean Haute Couture? No, I only design actually functional clothes. And no, I don't really go to press conferences or anything promoting my line to the public. I have a friend who deals with the publicity work, and we really only endorse the line to people who have enough fuck you money to buy a private island."

"Jesus, is there like a class I could take on how to be filthy rich like you? How the fuck can you guys afford to just… limit your products to high end customers? I tried to do the entrepreneur thing before, and even though I priced my shit on five dollars, no one was buying a goddamn thing and I had to close shop." Waylon grumbled reaching for the bottle, blinking at the lightness of it, and shaking it for a good measure. "It's empty."

"I guess that's a good sign to end this," Eddie took the bottle from him and picked up the shot glasses on one hand, striding to the kitchen and depositing them on the counter.

Waylon yawned and scratched his stomach, standing up to stretch his back. "That was cool. We should do it again next week."

"Of course," Eddie nodded at him as washed his hands. "Ah, by the way, there's a bedroom over there." He pointed at a closed door behind the living room, and Waylon walked around the sofa to check it out.

The bedroom was big and filled with posters of popular rock bands. There is a desk stacked with colorful folders and binders, a swivel chair tucked on the gap beneath the desk. There's clothes hanged on the rack beside the queen size bed, big enough to be around Eddie's size of clothes.

"Wait, is this your roommate's bedroom?" He called out.

"Yes, but he won't be here for the time being so-"

"No!" He gently closed the door and frowned at the taller man who was wiping his hands on a towel. "It belongs to someone. I can't just sleep there just because they're not here."

"But I'm telling you-"

"The couch is fine, Eddie." He gave him a bright smile, before plopping down on said couch, raising his legs so it's supported by the arm rest. "Thanks again for letting me crash here."

Eddie seemed to be stunned by the display as he paused to stare at his legs, like it's something that shouldn't be there. Maybe like a mannequin posed obscenely along the hallways of a department store where children could see it and where stupid people can take selfies with it and upload them for their Instagram Story.

Waylon grinned at him, stretching his legs up and waving with his feet.

It did the trick. Eddie shook his head and muttered something about blankets, climbing up the loft with impatience in his steps. He returned with a thick blanket on his hands, and Waylon did not miss the not so obvious ogling the taller man was doing as he descended the stair case.

"Are you sure you don't want to use the other bedroom? I know Chris won't be home tonight, it's totally fine if you sleep there."

Waylon clicked his tongue and grabbed the blanket from Eddie. "I told you, the couch is fine. It's so comfy and definitely better than my bed." The alcohol seemed to finally kicked into his system, enough to loosen his tongue. "Unless you want me to sleep with you, don't invite me in any bed at all." He laughed, draping the blanket on his legs.

He definitely missed the pained look Eddie shot him, but it was gone in an instant and was replaced with a bashful frown. "You're really drunk, Darling. Need more pillows? Anything else to make you comfortable?"

The programmer waved his hand as he lay down, head hitting the soft throw pillows as he smiled. "I'm fine. But if you insist on being a good host, how bout a goodnight kiss?"

Eddie froze in front of him, and _god his expression was just too hilarious_. He grabbed one pillow from under his head and clutched it as he dissolved into giggles.

"I was just kidding! But you look like I was-"

His sentence abruptly stopped as Eddie knelt near his face and kissed him below his right eye. His lips were soft, just like that time in the restaurant when Waylon gave into impulse and touched him. Time seemed to stop, just like his breathing. When Eddie pulled away, his heart hammered like an activated fire alarm, beating loudly as blood rushed into his ears.

"Sweet dreams, Waylon." Eddie smiled softly, before turning back and climbing up to his room.

Waylon gaped at the retreating man for a good amount of time, and turned to face the back of the couch, his face too hot. He pressed a cheek on the surface of the couch, feeling it stick briefly on his skin.

It's probably an exaggeration that he did dream sweetly, but then again his dreams were filled with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

And if that wasn't sweet... well, then fuck him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long overdueeeee aaaaaaaaaaaaa i hope you like this monster of a chapter!!
> 
> for the version of song Eddie was singing, listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5pBUrT7kCQ

“I think if we put a div here it would look better in mobile. Though I’m not sure, I’m not really a designer.”

Eddie leaned close to look over his screen. “Let me see the CSS… no you should use a different size. If you do that then it will override the container’s properties.”

Waylon groaned and handed him the laptop. “God I suck at this.”

“How about if I do the entire design and you code this part now?” His partner pointed at the left bottom of the white board they were using to construct the system architecture. “I told you before, I’m better at web development.”

“I know that, I’m just… I feel bad for not helping in this part.”

Eddie snorted and ruffled his hair. “Don’t be. It’s faster and more productive this way.”

He blushed under the ministration, biting his lip to contain his overly fond smile. Eddie’s doting habits sometimes make him feel like a kid, but it’s so cute that it ends up warming his heart.

His phone vibrated on his pocket, making him jump slightly.

 

From: Miles

To: You

>>Don't forget to bring Gluskin with you ;)

 

_Shit._

He dragged the top bar down to check the date, and _oh shit it's really the 28th today_.

Waylon gulped and turned to his partner who was busy typing away on his laptop.

"Hey, Eddie…"

"Yes?"

"Um, are you… are you free for the rest of the day?"

Eddie continued typing. "Yeah, why'd you ask?"

"D-Do you wanna come with me later? There's this bar that me and my friends wanna check out, and they've been out of town for a while so…" he sighed and shook his head. "Actually nevermind-"

"I'd love to go."

He snapped his head towards his partner, and found him smiling warmly. "Really?"

"Yeah. I can't remember the last time I went out for a drink, it's almost always at home so this would be a nice change of pace."

Waylon smiled in relief. "Thanks, Eddie. Ah, but I gotta warn you: my friends will definitely talk shit about me so don't listen to whatever they say."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at that, but the lack of explanation was for the best. Probably.

\--

The bar was located in a strip of various nightlife establishments, and the not so obvious sign leading to the entrance nearly made them loop around the building to find it. They quietly entered and slowly made their way around, Waylon scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

He was suddenly pulled into a strong headlock, and he yelped in surprise as a fist ground against his scalp.

"Waylon!! You brought a fucking date, finally!"

As if recognizing the voice, the programmer grabbed the arm holding him close and doubled over, raising the bespectacled man from the ground.

"As if you guys just didn't blackmail me into bringing one!"

"Whatever works, bitch baby!"

It seemed to piss off Waylon, as he immediately swayed his body forward, almost throwing the man on the floor. The man yelped and let him go, pushing himself back into balance.

Eddie watched the scene in amusement, and briefly wondered if Waylon was in any sort of combative sport in elementary. The way he easily maneuvers into a fighting stance reminds him of Chris, back when they were too young to deal with adult shit and spent their time watching too many action movies.

The two bickered for a while, before the man turned to him with a smirk. "Hey there. Are you Gluskin?"

He nodded. "Eddie Gluskin. And you are…?"

"Blake Langermann." He held out a hand, and they shook each other firmly. "Waylon's only sensible friend-"

"No you're not-"

"-and the only one, aside from Lynn, with a legal job.”

“Shithead, what’re you implying, huh?! You calling me a criminal? Put your legal dukes up, motherfucker!”

Blake smirked, grabbing Waylon by the shirt. “Why, Waylon? Did you finally give in and started stripping online- ah! What the fuck!” The dark haired man let him go, rubbing his head and turning around. A woman with shoulder length brown hair and bored eyes glared at the bickering men, her fist still raised.

“Jesus, Blake. Can you try being a normal human being for once?”

Waylon snorted. “Yeah, Blake. Try being normal for once. It’s pretty nice.” He turned to Eddie and pulled him closer to the group. “Hey Lynn, this is Eddie, my partner for this semester’s final project. Eddie, this is Lynn, freelance investigative journalist.” He pointed at Blake. “That imbecile over there is the camera man. They just got back from Arizona so we’re celebrating tonight.”

Lynn gave Eddie a sly smile before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you. Waylon never brought any dates in our outings so this is quite a surprise.”

“Way!!” A woman with wavy shoulder length hair ran towards them, scooping the programmer in a tight embrace. “You gotta meet my friend here, she’s from another university and I think you guys are gonna get along well-”

“Ah, uh, Lisa wait-”

The woman- Lisa- tugged him away from them with a laugh. “Come on!”

Eddie watched them hobble over to the bar, and within a few second were already swarmed with women. He felt something constricting in his chest, which brought a frown in his lips. Blake turned to his side, waving at someone.

“Miles! Meet Waylon’s squeeze here!”

“WHAT?!”

A crash resounded from behind, and another dark haired man wearing a brown jacket stumbled over. He looks tipsy, and his hair was all over the place.

“Oh hey! You’re Gluskin, aren’t you? Waylon wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you.”

“Erm… thank you?” What even is the appropriate response for that?

Miles laughed, gesturing over to a table behind him. “Sit down, sit down. Let’s chat for a bit shall we?”

Eddie watched him for a moment, before shrugging and sitting down with an easy smile. If any of them tried anything, it’s not like he can’t ward them off. Years of dealing with his troublemaker friends is enough experience.

The table has two sofa-like seats facing each other. Miles and Blake sat down in front of him while Lynn slid beside him. She raised an eyebrow when he glanced at her.

“So Gluskin,” Miles started, tapping the table lightly. “Yes or no: do you want to date Waylon?”

His eyes widened in shock, taken aback by the bluntness. “Um, I’m not sure this is-”

Lynn slammed her hand down on the table, cutting him off. “Yes or no, Eddie.” She waved to a passing waiter from another table far away, who nodded and approached them.

Eddie cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “…What if I want to?”

“Christ, just say yes then.” Blake sighed, and perked up when the waiter stopped at their table. “One Irish Trash Can.”

“Make that two,” Miles chimed in.

Lynn turned to the waiter. “One Vodka Cranberry.”

Eddie hesitated, and when everyone looked at him, he ordered in a louder voice to combat the thumping music. “One Death in the Afternoon.”

When the waiter left, Miles smirked at him. “You and Way sounds like a match made in heaven.”

“How did you even came to that conclusion?”

“Well, aside from the fact that all he talks about is how kind and amazing you are,” At this, he spluttered in disbelief. “You guys have the same taste in alcohol. I don’t know about you but that’s a good telling sign for compatibility.”

“That’s a shit telling sign, you imbecile.” Lynn glared at him, and okay, he feels a little bit terrified. If the long years of dealing with women taught Eddie anything, an angry woman can rain hell even to an imposing man like him. “I don’t care if you and Waylon ends up together, but there’s a chance that will happen. So I’m warning you now; if you even so much think about hurting him, say goodbye to your future children because I’ll castrate you in the worst way possible. Without anaesthetic.” Then she slid out of her seat and walked to the bar, where Waylon and Lisa sat down.

Blake nodded in agreement. “We care a lot about Waylon. As far as I know he’s only been in love once, if you exclude his declaration of marriage to his very first laptop.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, Blake pulling Lynn’s drink beside his.

Miles nudged the can of Red Bull to the side so he can sip at the straw. “Yeah, so now that that’s out of the way, let’s have some fun now.” He grinned. “So, what juicy bits about Way you wanna know?”

Eddie was only mildly embarrassed as he blurted out the question that has been drilling in his mind. “Who’s Lisa?”

Both men grinned at his question. Blake toyed with the straw of his drink. “Lisa is Waylon’s older sister from another family, you could say. She’s also Waylon’s first kiss.”

“And I’m second.” Said Miles.

“And I’m third,” Blake added. At the confused look Eddie shot him, he just shrugged. “It was truth or dare night, man. No hard feelings, and besides I’m straight.”

Miles snorted. “Says who?”

“Fuck off. Anyway, Lisa’s in our year back in high school, and she’s pretty much the campus princess. Waylon was smitten when he first met her. I think it was when Miles was making an article for the school paper and he assigned Way to interview her.”

“Yeah, but Lisa wasn’t really into dating at that time, so she turned him down but they became close friends. And because they’re both Korean and shares the same surname, Lisa treats him like her lil’ bro.” Miles took a long sip from his drink. “If there’s solid advice I could give you, don’t mess with Lisa. Waylon will definitely listen to her so make sure you’re on her good side.”

Eddie looked down at his drink before upending it.

This is probably going to be a long night.

\--

“Lisa, wait- I want you to meet my friend-”

“No it’s okay Waylon,” She ushered him to a seat, and called the bartender over. “Eddie Gluskin, right? I know him.”

“You- uh, what? You know him?”

“Yeah. Did you know he’s a fashion designer?”

“Oh. Yeah, he told me last night. Said he has a formalwear line… I think?”

Lisa gaped at him. Then she gripped his shoulders, shaking him hard. “Waylon! You’re dating a fucking high end designer!! One that’s been featured in motherfucking Harper’s Bazaar!” She let out a little scream, her fists shaking in excitement. “Do you think if I ask he’ll give me an autograph?!”

“What? I don’t know! And we’re not dating, geez you sound like Miles now.”

“Pshh,” she waved her hand. “Yeah, you’re not dating yet. But I could feel it, Way. The way he looked at you earlier when I pulled you away, God I wish someone would look at me like that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” she grinned. “So, why was I the last to know about him anyway? You don’t trust your big sis about dating?”

Waylon pouted, ordering a Long Island Iced Tea when the bartender stopped in front of them. “I wasn’t trying to date him, okay?”

Lisa stared at him.

“I said I wasn’t- fuck, okay so what if I’m interested?! Why is everyone making a big deal out of it?”

She gave him a knowing smile and patted his shoulder. “Trust me Way. When it comes to you, it is a big deal, especially for me.”

\--

Two drinks and a lot of childhood info about Waylon later, and Eddie was definitely feeling a little bold.

“I’m not sure if you know about this, but what’s the story behind his Prince of the Computer Science Department title?”

The two men looked at each other in surprise, before bursting out into giggles. Blake grabbed his phone from his pocket and giddily swiped away while Miles hiccupped in his drink.

“Oh man, that shit was wild. You definitely need to watch it though. Words can’t explain.”

“Watch what?”

Blake handed him the phone and a pair of earphones. “You’ll need privacy for this one. If Waylon hears even one snippet of Sexy Bitch, I’ll bet five hundred he’ll murder someone. Likely candidate is Miles or me, and I really wanna get married first before I die.”

Eddie nervously took it. A video was already on full screen, paused at the beginning. He plugged in the earphones and played the video.

There’s a big crowd surrounding a catwalk stage being lit with colorful lights. At the end of the stage is a heavy looking curtain, where he assumed contestants go through to enter. Above it is a big banner spelling out “Annual Computer Science Week Coronation Night” in neon blue paint.

A voice called out Waylon’s name from the speakers, and the crowd roared with anticipation. More than a few girls jumped up and down with a cardboard bearing Waylon’s picture and various confessions of love.

_“Yes I can see her. Cause every girl in here wanna be her.”_

The curtains parted dramatically and Waylon walked in, wearing a… completely nerdy get up. Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He doesn’t look like he’s competing for the Prince of the Computer Science Department. His hair was completely flat and even covering the top of his eyes, which was sporting black, thick-rimmed glasses. His plaid black and white shirt was untucked from his shiny… _no_ , Eddie squinted. Those are…

Those are leather pants.

_Fuck._

Even though it doesn’t pair with Waylon’s navy blue sneakers, somehow Eddie just knew that something naughty is going to happen. No one wears leather pants without some kind of sexual intention.

Waylon slowly marched towards the audience, his face a careful neutral.

_“Oh she’s a diva. I feel the same and I wanna meet her.”_

He slowly undid the first button of his shirt, and it was fucking obvious that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The girls screamed, waving their arms and banners wildly. _Same_ , Eddie internally agreed.

_“They say she low down. It’s just a rumor and I don’t believe it.”_

Another button popped, and Waylon turned his back to the audience, walking back to where he started.

_“They say she needs to slow down, the baddest thing around town.”_

Waylon stopped, his legs apart. Then, he slowly gyrated his hips, bending his knees slightly.

The person recording the video laughed as the crowd went wild in shock and excitement. A few girls tried to climb the stage but was held back by what appears to be staff maintaining the event. In a split second, Waylon turned back again to the audience, revealing his completely unbuttoned shirt and his bare torso.

_Oh my fucking God._

_“She’s nothing like a girl you’ve ever seen before. Nothing you can compare to your neighborhood whore. I’m trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful.”_

The programmer danced forward near the edge of the stage, stopping at the center to spread his legs wider and roll his hips to the side, his movements intensifying with the beat.

 _"The way that booty movin' I can't take it no more. Have to stop what I'm doin' so I can pull up close. I’m trying to find the words to describe this girl without being disrespectful._ "

Waylon turned back again, carding his hand to his hair and maintaining the sensual curve of his body as he popped his ass up, the leather stretching to accommodate his movements. Eddie realized then and there that he needs to sign up for health insurance because he’s going to have a heart attack at any moment from the way the programmer was seducing the viewers with all his might. _Good lord, have mercy on me._

The moment the chorus started, Waylon pushed his hair up and tossed the glasses to the audience, who grappled for it while he continued dancing, a strange passion in his eyes and an adorable blush on his cheeks. His lips were pulled into a big smile, a hint of tongue peeking out on the corner.

Yeah, holy shit. Eddie needs to stop, but a disembodied voice in his brain chanted for him to continue, _can’t you see Waylon’s putting a show?? Everyone has seen it, it’s not a crime to watch, go ahead, damn girl! Damn, a sexy bitch!_

 _Shut the fuck up_ , he chimed in.

But he couldn’t physically stop, his eyes drawn to the way the programmer’s hips rotated and snapped in sync of the music. When the lyrics repeated the same first verses, a woman- Lisa, he noticed- appeared from the entrance and walked towards Waylon, grinning wide. She’s wearing a white button up shirt and black mini skirt, and one of the tallest wedges Eddie has seen in his life. She grabbed Waylon by the shoulder, turning him towards her, and the person recording cackled as the girls complained loudly in disapproval.

They danced together in the middle of the stage, and the intimacy in their steps and touches felt like a thousand stabs of jealousy in his heart. He had to remind himself that Waylon is no longer interested in Lisa, and that the lady is already committed to someone else. Deep breaths, motherfucker.

His train of thought crashed as Lisa spun Waylon around to face the audience and quickly went to the side of the stage, where the camera couldn't see her, and Waylon…

_Holy shit._

Waylon tore his shirt from his body, a smug look in his face. He… literally tore it apart, the shirt ripped in half as he tossed it to the audience. Lisa returned to the center of the stage, followed by several girls screaming as they excitedly tackled the man down.

 _"Oh shit, oh shit Lisa actually did it, oh my God."_ Eddie heard Miles' voice from beside the camera, the focus moving away from the stage as the hoard of girls in front climbed up to participate in whatever the fuck is going on. The video ended with one final glance at Waylon, who was laughing out loud as someone shoved a cardboard crown in his head.

Eddie removed the earphones and pushed the phone back to Blake, folding his hands in front of him and contemplating his life choices.

"See, man? Waylon's a dangerous person. He could kill you with his hips alone."

Eddie nodded in agreement, somehow the sentiment making sense in his head.

The moment was interrupted with laughing Lynn bounding up their table, linking arms with another female journalist. Her face was flushed and shiny with sweat. “Hey, you guys done here? Cause we’re going bar hopping!”

Miles and Blake cheered, already sliding out of their seats. Waylon made his way to Eddie’s side and grabbed his arm, pulling him up with a thousand-watt smile, and Eddie felt like he’s committing a crime as he imagined his partner shirtless and sporting the same leather pants from the video. Smiling like this, all for him.

“Come on big guy! Let’s get going!”

\--

The next bar they went to got an impressive karaoke machine, and Waylon didn't miss the mischievous glint in his friends' eyes. He turned to level them with a glare.

"If any of you plays Sexy Bitch I'll kill you all in your sleep."

Miles and Blake snickered, turning to Eddie with careful smiles. He raised an eyebrow, but shook his head and went straight to the counter, waiting for the bartender to finish a cocktail for another customer. Eddie slid beside him, looking up on the shelves of bottles lined on the far wall.

"Hey Eddie," he grinned, and in a fit of sudden boldness, leaned his head on his partner's shoulder. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," Eddie hummed. The mere fact that he didn't jolt his shoulder to shoo him away sends a rush of warmth on his chest.

"Do you sing?"

Eddie grinned. "You bet I do."

Waylon laughed and looked up at him in delight. “Really?! Let’s hear it!”

“Hm. Convince me first, darling.”

“Aw. Hmm… If I give you a blowjob will you sing for me?”

The bigger man stiffened in his seat, his eyes wide as saucers and his mouth hanging open. “W-What?”

Waylon roared in laughter, slapping the counter as he clutched his stomach. He waved the bartender over, and the man behind the counter approached them. “Bartender, one Blow Job please!”

“O-Oh,” Eddie cleared his throat and looked away. “A shot.”

“Yes, it’s a shot.” The bartender chuckled and grabbed a shot glass as well as various bottles of liquor.

The programmer leaned closer, his lips against Eddie’s ear. Waylon smiled as Eddie shuddered, his face flushed in an adorable shade of red under the dim lights of the bar. “Would you preferred if I offered you a real blow job instead?”

Eddie glared at him, but the effect was lost with how much his composure gave away. “Darling, please.”

The bartender set the shot in front of the larger man, and he looked at it with a pained expression. Waylon nudged him in the shoulder, eyebrows wiggling.

“Oh, fine.”

He cheered as Eddie downed the shot and wiped his lips, setting the glass back to the counter and walking up the karaoke. He waited as one of the customers finished their song, scrolling down the detachable tablet containing the list of songs the machine can play. Lisa and Miles sat on the empty seats on beside him.

Lisa called the bartender back and ordered a Cosmopolitan. “Wow, you got Eddie wrapped in your pretty little finger that fast?”

“The power of Asian genes,” Miles sighed. Both Lisa and Waylon giggled at his remark.

The current song finished and Eddie grabbed a microphone, turning to Waylon’s direction. Waylon smirked and grabbed the Blow Job’s empty shot glass, raising it to his lips and licking the rim slowly.

Eddie accidentally coughed loudly into the mic, and Waylon dissolved into snorts and pitiful attempts to snuff his laughter down.

The music started with several strums of electric guitar, and the upbeat melody kicked in. Eddie held the mic close as he sang, eyes never leaving him.

_“Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down and mess me around? And then worst of all, you never call baby when you say you will.”_

His deep voice garnered a lot of attention from the other patrons, curiously looking over the corner where the speakers were blasting the song. Miles snickered, sipping his beer.

_“But I love you still. I need you, more than anyone darling. You know that I have from the start.”_

Lisa cackled, sloshing her drink on Waylon’s pants. “Is this a goddamn confession?!”

_“So build me up, buttercup don’t break my heart.”_

But Waylon stopped paying attention to his friends, his entire being centered in the large man singing confidently in front of everyone.

_“You’ll be over at ten, you tell me time and again, but you’re late. I wait around and then. I went to the door, I can’t take anymore. It’s not you, you let me down again.”_

Eddie’s body moved with the rhythm, his shoulder shaking in time of _‘hey, hey, hey!’_ A few women gathered near the platform of the karaoke, raising their phones to take pictures or record, some of them hooting in glee as Eddie smiled.

_“Baby, baby, try to find. A little time, and I’ll make you mine. I’ll be home, I’m waiting by the phone for you.”_

The audience cooed with the _‘ooh ooh, ooh ooh’_ , and Waylon found himself singing along the chorus. Eddie held his gaze, satisfaction blazing in his bright eyes.

_“To you I’m a toy, but I could be the boy you adore, if you just let me know. Although you’re untrue, I’m attracted to you all the more… why do I need you so?”_

Waylon gulped, his throat suddenly dry.

_“Baby, baby, try to find. A little time, and I’ll make you mine. I’ll be home, I’m waiting by the phone for you.”_

Eddie never wavered in his stare, eyes only for him.

And Waylon loved his attention, the fact that he never spared a glance to anyone else.

_“Why do you build me up, buttercup baby, just to let me down and mess me around? And then worst of all, you never call baby when you say you will. But I love you still. I need you, more than anyone darling. You know that I have from the start.”_

_Fuck._

_“So build me up, buttercup, don’t break my heart…”_

Eddie closed his eyes as he belted out the final verses of the song, both of his hands gripping the mic.

_“I, I, I need you more than anything, darling. You know that I have from the start.”_

The music slowed down into a piano solo, and Eddie opened his eyes, still trained to him.

_Yes._

_Look at me._

_Only me._

Waylon is drunk- both from the liquor and the raw emotion coursing through his veins.

_“So build me up… buttercup… don’t break my heart.”_

_Fuck._

Waylon licked his lips.

_Maybe Eddie deserved a real blowjob for that stellar performance._

\--

Because all of them are intoxicated, some definitely wasted, it was a good idea to just flag a cab to drive them around to where they could rest. Miles was too busy making out with his date, and Waylon wasn’t drunk enough to be rude. So gave his friends a tight hug, bid everyone goodbye, and ducked inside a taxi beside Eddie.

“You’re not coming home with them?”

“Nah, you don’t want to be within five-meter radius when Miles is having someone over. Good enough for blackmail material but not worth the trouble.” He yawned and leaned his head on Eddie’s shoulder, just like earlier. “Besides, my shit is still in your apartment.”

Eddie chuckled, and they quietly waited as the cab left the bar’s vicinity.

When they arrived, Waylon tried to pitch in the payment but Eddie just slapped his hand away, shoving the bill to the driver and dragging the both of them out. The driver thanked him with an amused grin, and speed away.

Waylon slowly swayed towards the door, leaning his body on the wall while Eddie fumbled with his keys. He stared up at the sky, spotting a few faint stars.

"Eddie."

The click of the door unlocking echoed in the silence of the night. "Yeah?"

"Do you… mhmm… nevermind."

"What is it?"

He turned to his partner and smiled. "Well… do you remember when we first… talked? In the cafe?"

Eddie gently took his arm and pulled him inside, his eyes a little darker but still focused in him. He followed without hesitance, enjoying the steady grip and the warmth of their skin together. "What about it?"

"You… you kissed… m-my hand…"

He closed the door with a well-timed kick. Eddie didn't reply, but he didn't avert his eyes either. So Waylon grabbed onto every ounce of courage pumped into him by his intoxication and closed the distance between them.

"Will you kiss my hand again?"

Eddie let out a shaky breath at their proximity, tongue darting out to quickly lick his bottom lip. "I… I guess…"

Waylon raised his hand and gently caressed his partner's cheek, and Eddie took the opportunity to press his lips against his palm, his own hand overlapping his. Waylon's breath hitched and his eyes closed, relishing the warmth.

"Darling."

"Mhm?"

Eddie pried his hand from his face and turned it over, kissing the back of his fingers. "What if… I want to kiss something else?"

His heart sped up as he opened his eyes, and received the same intensity of emotions Eddie was channeling to him with his gaze earlier. It was as if they were back in the bar, all of their inhibitions lowered, but the silence of the apartment and the lack of flashing lights grounded him to reality.

_No one's around._

Waylon sighed softly, tilting his head up, his free hand sliding up the larger man's chest.

"Kiss me, Eddie."

And Eddie did not disappoint; he grabbed the back of Waylon's head and eagerly tasted him. Waylon mewled and entwined their hands together, backing up against the door to support himself as Eddie kissed him silly.

He'd been kissed before by various people, but nothing can compare to this moment. The way lips, teeth, and tongue slowly unraveled his mind burned through him, and all he could think about is Eddie's name like a madman's prayer.

_Yes. Yes, yes, yes._

They pulled apart to breath, panting in each other's mouth. He laughed breathlessly as Eddie peppered his face with tiny kisses, and in that moment nothing else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu at https://patchworkweddingdress.tumblr.com/ :)


End file.
